


Breaths, Sighs, and Everything In-Between

by classiqfemme



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, post-3x07 (Currents)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-17
Updated: 2013-07-17
Packaged: 2017-12-20 11:31:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/886752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/classiqfemme/pseuds/classiqfemme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eventually someone will notice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breaths, Sighs, and Everything In-Between

                There is a moment when Deaton thinks the sheriff has lost his damn mind. Surely Scott will notice that the man refuses to cross the Mountain Ash circle. Surely he’ll notice the sheriff’s aim is just a little too good in the darkness. Deaton’s arms gave out on him (what feels like) hours ago, and his mind is going muddled, and suddenly the existential philosophy he was force-fed as an undergrad makes sense, but the point remains…. Surely Scott will notice.

                Deaton counted how many pull-ups and body-inversions he did or attempted while he was strung up. He refuses to remember that number now. He refuses to think about the slow burn of Oxygen or the rush of blood to his head that made him curse all of the gymnastic training he had forced on him as a child. If Scott hadn't found him by now, let him die fast. No. Scott will find him. Hang on. Breathe, though your pectorals are crushing your lungs. Breathe. Curse the Darach with every breath and breathe.

                 (Alan clings and kicks and forces his body into unnatural positions for hours. Pull-ups,    inversions, and a Zen-like calm don’t save him. He knew he would die the moment a moth flew into his mouth.)

                Scott is being forced to watch you die and after all this… anything else but this. There is hope in your chest and red in his eyes but after all this? You’ll die in a circle of ash that the junior officers will cross without thought. Ash, just ash… and it will turn you to dust.

                The sheriff is there and despite everything, the burn in your arms, the emptiness of your chest, the ache in your heart…  If he’s smart he’ll let you die. If he’s smart he’ll just… only a few seconds left until you drop into an unconscious haze… John…

                There’s a bang and then the gashing pain of arms lowering. Of blood suddenly flowing to anoxic limbs. You kick out at the ash ring. The sheriff lets Scott be the first to touch. By all the gods…

                “Thank you… such a good detective.” What is he saying? The sheriff’s secrets are his to keep, but what is this stilted pabulum? He’ll thank the man later for taking the risk, for exposing himself, for making that shot, for soothing the awkwardness… but Scott is there and Scott will be protected.  The sheriff will understand. He’ll do the same for Stiles eventually.

                It’s past midnight and Derek is underneath Stiles’ window wondering if he could find comfort in the inevitable snarky hug fest. Claw marks score the siding of the house and eventually Deaton will have to remind Hale to cover his tracks but today the marks make his heart swell with wanting. Years ago similar lines marked the old oak by Alan’s window and so today… today of all days, Alan leaves the boys to their frustrating dance.

                Alan is silent in the sheriff’s bed, waiting for a long shift to be over. Paperwork… always paperwork, but he always comes back to this. Comes back to Alan and his ash lines. His half-truths. His half-lies. The silent creep into bed and the soft choke of his stuttered orgasm against lips that want to tell him everything. There’s a book of runes where the family bible should be. There’s a wooden stake soaked in Wolf’s bane underneath the bed. A spare gun, legally registered but filled (by Alan, unknown to Sheriff John Stilinski) with unnatural bullets is lying under the sole pillow. No one has explicitly told the sheriff, under Deaton’s strict orders. The son drifts from the father and the father pushes the son into relative safety. Deaton can manage a few more sins on his shoulders, but this one he mourns. The sheriff takes the blame but knows the cause. They’ve built legacies into their buildings, know that their surnames will live on, but somehow their names are forgotten. Deaton leaves the clinic. Stilinski leaves the station.

                John lets his sigh ripple against Alan’s chest.


End file.
